


Just Dinner

by Glenraven



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Banter, F/M, Taunting, possibly developing relationship, working together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:22:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21635815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Glenraven/pseuds/Glenraven
Summary: “Ne Namie-san,” he calls out.“What is it now?” Namie’s voice sounds at once put-upon and resigned and she doesn’t bother looking up from the file she’s studying.“I’m hungry. Get some take-away ramen and sake from that little place down the street, won’t you.”Namie sighs, her upper lip curling in disgust. “Why don’t you go get it yourself? I’m neither your fetch nor your maid.”Izaya smirks. “You’re my assistant. Isn’t that sort of a mixture of both?”
Relationships: Orihara Izaya/Yagiri Namie
Comments: 7
Kudos: 44





	Just Dinner

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Demytasse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demytasse/gifts).



> It has been a long time since I've posted anything in this fandom...  
> Back in February (I sink down in shame) I took a few fic requests on tumblr. Hi Demytasse, this is the fill for your prompt:
> 
> "For your fic request, would you write izanamie, where Izaya tries to ask Namie out for dinner after they've had some unspoken thing for awhile. Namie gives Izaya a hard time. ( ` ∇ ´ )"
> 
> I hope you like this bundle of Ikebukuro shenanigans with a dash of pining.

Izaya would rather die than admit it out loud, but he’s been the most aggravating mixture of bored and antsy all afternoon. Bored because for once nothing interesting is happening in Ikebukuro. Antsy with the need to _do_ something. It’s hard to move around players when there’s no interesting pieces on the board.

To be fair, there are the occasional small-scale gang squabbles happening, and the Russians have been moving some cargo that’s more high-rate than usual, but the _humans_. The humans doing these things just aren’t interesting enough. Izaya has no desire to use them, or even mess with them. They are not worthy of his attention.

He glances up from where he’s been staring at his two computer screens, dozens of tabs open with forums and chat rooms that aren’t moving at their usual pace. Now there, across from him, is an interesting human.  
Yagiri Namie is the perfect incarnation of a cold beauty, and highly educated to boot. Ever since he hired her, he’s enjoyed humiliating her a bit every now and again. It got even better when she started talking back.

Lately, their verbal sparring had reached a point where Izaya started wondering if they were still insulting each other or if this wasn’t more like a form of… flirting. By aggressively calling out each other’s worst traits.  
Izaya chuckles and shakes his head.  
“Ne Namie-san,” he calls out.  
“What is it now?” Namie’s voice sounds at once put-upon and resigned and she doesn’t bother looking up from the file she’s studying.  
“I’m hungry. Get some take-away ramen and sake from that little place down the street, won’t you.”  
Namie sighs, her upper lip curling in disgust. “Why don’t you go get it yourself? I’m neither your fetch nor your maid.”  
Izaya smirks. “You’re my assistant. Isn’t that sort of a mixture of both?”  
Her gaze is murderous, and it sends a bolt of excitement through Izaya’s body.

“Come on, Namie-san. You can even get a portion for yourself too. My treat!”  
She scoffs. “No need. I have no desire whatsoever to share dinner with you. I have someone to go home to and prepare a meal for.”  
Izaya sighs dramatically. “Oh right, dear Seiji-kun. How ever could I forget about him.” He pretends to think hard, furrowing his brows. “Just how long has it been since he last came over for your formerly usual Thursday dinner? One month? Two?”

Namie sets the file down harder than necessary and rises to her feet. “I’m done here for the night.”  
She gathers her things, puts on her boots in the genkan — Izaya is not at all focusing on how gracefully she bends and moves as she does that — and a few seconds later the front door shuts with a bang.

Izaya hums to himself. “Maybe some other time.”

The next few days, Namie somehow manages to give Izaya the cold shoulder while at the same time being very… attention-drawing. In a distracting way. Izaya is quite sure that he isn’t imagining her skirts being a tad shorter than normal, her boots higher heeled. Instead of her usual turtleneck sweaters, she wears soft clothing that reveals her neck and at times even her collar bones. Her skin is pale and entirely blemishless. Izaya’s fingers hit the keyboard with slightly more noise than necessary and he forces his eyes away.

So Namie is pretty. That’s hardly news. The question is, what is she trying to say with this change in clothing habits? Is she wearing them to annoy him? Tempt him with what she says he can’t have?  
Is she finally moving past her disturbing infatuation with her brother? If so, does that mean she is trying to attract the attention of other men who have nothing to do with Izaya? He is surprised by how much the thought galls him. Namie should be no one to him, no more than a chess piece he used to the fullest and then retired to the back lines, a queen who has become a mere pawn that does menial jobs around the office.

Namie rises from her chair and walks over to the kitchen. She shouldn’t look cute in the bunny slippers he got for her, but she does. Also, her legs are truly fantastic.  
Disgusting. Why is he suddenly hyper-focusing on these things? Maybe he just needs to go out. Talk his way into some rich heiress’ bed and steal a few secrets.

However, that somehow feels like folding. Like chickening out. And he will not do that, not if Namie is his opponent.  
Maybe he should just pay her back in kind. Return the favor.  
Izaya allows himself a grin before cheerfully going back to work. Namie’s suspicious gaze alone is worth it when she sees him working with a new calm, occasionally humming to himself.

The next day, Izaya dresses in a suit. It’s a dark charcoal, nearly black, paired with a red silk shirt that he leaves open at the collar, exposing his throat and a glimpse of collar bone. It looks fancy but not stiff, more like a young mafia heir (with taste) out on the town than some straightlaced businessman.  
Namie blinks when she enters the office, but catches herself in only a second. She takes off her shoes and puts on her slippers as usual before discarding her coat. It’s an elegant one that emphasizes her slim frame.  
Beneath, she’s wearing a dark red dress that reaches mid-thigh, flaring out a bit from the hip. A belt circles her waist and the sleeves of the dress reach her wrists. It would hardly be provocative if it weren’t for the neckline, or rather shoulderline. Not even the tops of her breasts are exposed but her neck and shoulders are entirely bare, and the dress is lined in lace.

When she walks into the kitchen to get herself some coffee, Izaya nearly chokes. Half her back is open, and the play of her lean muscles as she walks is more fascinating than in has any right to be.  
They work the first hour in silence, just exchange a sentence or two every now and again to coordinate their work.

“I’ll be leaving in fifteen minutes,” Izaya remarks. “I have a meeting with Shiki-san.”  
“Oh,” she says nonchalantly. “Do you need me to come along?”  
Does he want her to be stared at by Shiki’s goons?  
“No, that won’t be necessary. It’s nothing too out of the ordinary.” He pretends to re-order his already perfectly organized folder of notes and information on different projects Shiki asked him to look into.

“Interesting,” Namie says without looking up from her typing. “Why the change in outfits then? Trying to impress Shiki-san? Clue him in to your long-time fascination with his handsome yakuza face? Trying to outdo him in the suit department?”  
Izaya snorts. “I am not infatuated with Shiki-san.” If he was in his high school days, that’s not something Namie needs to know.  
“The meeting will be held in an upscale restaurant. It’s important not to stand out.”  
Namie nods sagely. “And the best way to do that is of course to wear red.”  
Izaya raises a brow. “That sounds oddly like the pot calling the kettle back.”  
To his immense gratification, the hint of a blush colors Namie’s neck.

“Let me return the question, Namie-san: Why the red dress? Got a hot date after work with no time to change inbetween?”  
“But Izaya-san,” she flutters her lashes, “don’t you realize that I’m wearing it just for you?”  
He chuckles, and her smile turns wicked. It shouldn’t send heat down his spine, but it does.  
“I’ll be on my way now,” he says as he grabs his bag and puts on his shoes. “I won’t be too long, so don’t even think about sneaking out and going home early while still billing me for your ‘work’.”  
He can’t be sure but he swears he can feel her staring at his ass as he goes.

The meeting with Shiki is actually not a lie, but it does not take place anywhere fancy. Shiki’s car picks him up as usual, and Shiki shows absolutely no reaction to his lack of a fur-trimmed coat.  
“Do you have the information, Orihara-san?”  
“Of course.” He presents the files, giving Shiki time to skim through them.  
“Impressive work, as always.” Shiki hands over an envelope and Izaya quickly does a rough count of the bills.  
“Much obliged, Shiki-san!” Izaya expects to be dropped off where they picked him up, but a glance out the window makes him frown.  
“Akabayashi-san asked to meet with you,” Shiki states by ways of an explanation.

“Oya?” Izaya doesn’t have to fake his surprise. He knows Akabayashi neither likes nor trusts him. He quickly thinks back to the last few weeks, but can’t come up with anything he could have done or meddled with that would piss the redhead off.  
“Do you know what his business is?”

Shiki snorts. “No business of mine, I’m sure. I’ll be in touch with you in case I need follow-up info on this.” He lifts the files Izaya handed to him. “Now please exit the vehicle, Orihara-san.”  
Izaya salutes and hops out, but he’s uneasy. He’s in a shady neighborhood and for once looks well-dressed. To anyone else, this could be rather bad news. Izaya cocks his hip and puts his hands in his pockets, fingers wrapping around the handle of his knife. He knows he could get out of any shit some unknowing thug starts, but he’d rather not ruin his suit.  
The street is mostly deserted, a few down on their look people rooting through garbage falling by the wayside, a few impoverished old people dragging their shopping back home.

No Akabayashi. Izaya taps his foot in annoyance, giving his surroundings a more detailed look. Instead of simply worn down, the people on the street look anxious, glancing over their shoulders, their steps harried. Interesting.  
Izaya turns when he hears the sound of Akabayashi’s signature cane tapping on the road. He doesn’t really need it to walk, but he fakes some kind of injury now as he comes towards Izaya, a wolfish grin on his face. Oddly, if anything, the two or three people left on the street look relieved to see him.

“Well hello, Orihara-san. So kind of you to make an appearance.”  
Izaya doesn’t bother saying that he didn’t have much of a choice in the matter.  
“Of course. What do you need from me, Akabayashi-san?”

What Akabayshi needs turns out to be quite easy to accomplish, but it sounds nevertheless interesting. Groups of youth gangs have been running rampant in the area, terrorizing the citizens. A group like the Awakusu-kai would normally not give a shit, but some of the elderly are apparently still under their protection due to promises made long ago, and in addition, the youngsters also started meddling with the drug business. Izaya still isn’t clear on why, but he knows Akabayashi is on a feud with drugs and won’t tolerate them in what he sees as ‘his’ territory.

For Izaya himself, it’s simply amusing to see the whole thing play out. He’ll get Akabayashi the info he needs, but nobody said he couldn’t do some meddling of his own. Might be fun to make the several groups involved go at each other some more, ne? Besides, teenagers are so dumb. It’s simply fun to play around with their feelings and beliefs a little.

In the end, Izaya parts with Akabayashi in a good mood, whistling as he walks back to the busier parts of Ikebukuro. Shizu-chan still hasn’t found him, and it’s a nice afternoon. Nothing wrong with taking a stroll through his favorite city. He ambles down Sunshine, taking in the new shops that have popped up, listening in on some conversations between school girls, hanging around the square with the fountain.

In the end, his steps lead him to Russia Sushi.  
“Izaya-san! Sushi good! Fresh otoro!”  
“Yo, Simon,” he greets as he steps in, exchanging a few words in Russian with Denis before taking a seat at the counter. The otoro really is exceptionally good today, and since it’s been a while, Denis also has new information.  
The Russian mob is moving in weapons. Part of it is for the yakuza, but there seems to be a certain… surplus. Denis doesn’t go into further detail but Izaya’s heartbeat speeds up in excitement. Perhaps this is the war that will make his Dullahan’s pretty eyes open up.  
By the time he leaves Russia Sushi, the sun is already on its way down. Izaya takes the train to get back to Shinjuku before rush hour really starts.

Namie is truly still in the office, though Izaya sees her click away a window with a video running and pretend to go back to work. However, the files he asked her to organize are done, so he doesn’t comment on it. He feels her eyes on him as he goes into the kitchen for coffee, then again when he stretches to get a book from the high shelf. He sprawls in the chair, angled so that his collar gapes open. He flicks opens his book, actually getting absorbed in the content, but not so much that he doesn’t notice Namie checking him out. She’s subtle, but not subtle enough.  
He keeps iron control over his own glances but whenever she shifts, his eyes are drawn to the line of her shoulders, to how delicate her collar bones and throat look.

“Namie-san.” She looks up at him, cocking a brow.  
“Will you join me for dinner tonight?”  
She rolls her eyes. “Are you still hung up on how I didn’t bring you ramen the other day?”  
Izaya lets his voice drop. “I think we both know that that’s not what I’m talking about.” Not exclusively, at least.

She leans back and folds her arms. Keeping his eyes on her face is way harder than it has any right to be.  
“Why would I go out with someone like you?” Her voice is cold, but there’s something in her gaze that keeps him pushing onwards.  
He looks at her through lidded eyes. “You mean someone charming? Smart? Rich? Equally tainted by the dark side of this city?”  
She scoffs. “You forgot childish, petty, and obsessive.”  
“Oh, are we talking about you now?” He grins, leaning forward with his chin perched on his palms. It makes his shirt dip forward and he sees Namie’s eyes drop, though it’s only for a second.  
“Come on, Namie.” His tone is more serious. “I’m only asking for a dinner, not for your hand in marriage. No strings. And look at us, dressed to match.”  
Namie looks to the side. There’s a war going on in her head.

“One dinner,” she concedes. “You pay for whatever I order and do whatever I say.”  
Izaya chuckles. “That doesn’t sound quite fair, Namie-san. What do I get in return?”  
“My delightful company.” The smirk on her face is downright evil.  
Izaya gulps. He’s past being ashamed of his interest.  
“Let’s go then!” He puts on his suit jacket and fixes his hair.  
Namie looks amused, but gets her coat and heels. She accepts his arm when they leave the apartment.  
Izaya has never felt so excited at the prospect of being ordered around. Namie has a very devious mind, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I love comments so please let me know what you think :)


End file.
